The Brutal Force-Feeding

"Declan?!!" The shrill, horrified voice of Lexa Morvan shattered the heavy, sexually charged air of the bedroom.

Lexa, the daughter of Beta Garrett of the Dusk Moon pack, stood frozen in the doorway. Her wide eyes took in Declan's thick, hard cock pressing against Della’s wet pussy.

Declan glanced over his shoulder. He did not flinch. He did not scramble to cover himself. Beside him, Della sucked in a sharp breath. The intoxicating haze of lust vanished, replaced instantly by icy dread. Lexa let out a choked sob. Tears welled in her eyes before she spun around and fled down the hallway, the sound of her frantic footsteps echoing through the pack house.

Panic seized Della’s chest. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she grabbed her discarded clothes from the floor. The lingering heat of Declan’s touch evaporated from her skin, replaced by a cold, prickling sweat. She scrambled to cover her bare breasts, struggling to pull her bra straps over her shoulders. Her fingers fumbled with the thin lace, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She threw her top over her head and slid off the edge of the large mattress, her bare feet hitting the cold floorboards. She needed to leave. She needed to hide.

Lexa was incredibly close to Luna Rowena. The entire pack knew it. If Lexa ran to Declan’s mother with this...

Before Della could take another step toward the door, a strong, warm hand clamped around her wrist. Declan halted her retreat. His grip was firm but gentle. He pulled her backward, turning her around until she crashed into his broad, scar-free chest. He was still naked, his muscular body radiating a calming heat, but his face was perfectly composed.

"What are you doing?" Declan asked. His voice was smooth, betraying zero concern.

"What?" Della gasped, her voice trembling. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with terror. "Why are you looking so calm? That's Lexa! You know how close she is to your mom. You know exactly what that means for me. Declan, how can you just stand there when—"

Declan raised his hand. He pressed his middle finger against her soft lips, silencing her frantic rambling. He dragged her closer by her waist, forcing her to look directly into his dark eyes.

"This is exactly what I have been waiting for, Della," he murmured. His tone carried unwavering confidence. "You are safe in my hands. I love you very much. I will protect you in front of my parents, and I will show you that I truly love you." He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I will never leave you. Trust me."

His protective vow washed over her. The words sank deep into her skin. Inside her mind, her wolf, Sable, paused her frantic pacing. Sable let out a soft rumble of approval, leaning into the bond. The sheer certainty in Declan’s voice gave Della a fragile sense of security. She closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath, and rested her forehead against his chest.

The fragile peace did not last.

Two days later, a suffocating tension gripped the entire pack house. Every servant, every guard, every member of the household walked on eggshells. No one dared to cross a boundary. Luna Rowena was returning from overseas.

The moment the black SUV rolled into the massive compound, the atmosphere grew heavy. Della stood in the grand foyer alongside the other maids, her throat dry. She swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising nausea. She had spent the last forty-eight hours convincing herself that she would be fine. Declan had promised to protect her. But the second the car door swung open and Luna Rowena stepped out, every ounce of courage Della had gathered evaporated.

Rowena was striking, draped in expensive fabrics, but her presence was terrifying. She stalked toward the entrance, her sharp eyes scanning the lined-up maids. She looked at them as though they were nothing more than garbage bags left out on the curb.

Rowena paused at the front of the line. She did not look at anyone in particular. "I hope everything is in order, Rose?" she asked. Her face remained rigid, a mask of cold authority.

Rose, the head maid, hurried forward, keeping her head bowed. "Yes, ma’am."

Rowena pushed past them and walked deeper into the mansion. Della kept her eyes glued to the floor, listening to the rhythmic clicking of the Luna’s red heels against the polished marble. Click. Click. Click. Each step sounded like a death knell. Only when the sound faded down the long corridor did Della finally let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Her shoulders slumped.

*I’m scared, Della,* Sable whimpered in her mind. The wolf curled into a tight ball, her tail tucked between her legs.

*Me too,* Della replied.

Seeing Rowena resurrected Della’s deepest, most traumatic anxieties. The Luna’s domineering aura dragged Della back to the darkest night of her life. She remembered being a little girl, the pampered princess of her father. Her father had not held a high-ranking position in the wolf society, but he was wealthy, kind, and loved by their community. Then, a rival group of wolves formed a bitter enmity with him. The memory hit Della like a physical blow—the deafening gunshots, the smell of copper and smoke. She had watched from a hiding spot as her father, her mother, and her twin sister were slaughtered in cold blood. The helplessness of that night clawed at her chest now, leaving her gasping for air.

Later that afternoon, Rose assigned Della to prepare dinner for the Luna. Della spent hours in the kitchen, meticulously following the recipes, making sure every dish was perfect. When the food was ready, she set the long dining table and retreated to her cramped quarters in the servants' wing.

She lay on the bottom bunk bed, staring blankly at the wooden slats above her. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. The terror of the morning still clung to her skin.

"DELLA!!!!"

A wicked, thunderous scream physically shook the walls of the small room. Della flinched. The name rang in her head. She blinked, thinking it was just her mind playing tricks on her, a cruel manifestation of her anxiety. But then the shout came again, louder, dripping with venom.

"DELLA!!!!"

It was not in her head. It was real.

Della shot up from the mattress. The heavy wooden door of her room rattled in its frame from the sheer volume of the call. Panic exploded in her veins. She scrambled off the bed, her foot catching on the blanket. She nearly broke her leg as she stumbled to the floor, righted herself, and bolted down the hallway.

When she reached the grand living room, her blood ran cold. The sight before her confirmed her worst fears. The entire household staff, every maid and butler, was lined up in front of the dining area. They were all bowing in terror. Even Rose had her head ducked low, her shoulders trembling.

Sitting at the head of the long table was Luna Rowena. She was seething. The air around her crackled with unchecked rage. Since her husband, the Alpha, was away managing the pack’s businesses in other cities, Rowena held absolute control over San Diego. She ruled the pack, the house, and her son with an iron fist.

Della’s hands shook. Her legs felt like lead, heavy and uncooperative. She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, stepping forward from the archway.

"Luna," Della called out weakly. Her voice cracked. She walked toward the table, keeping her head lowered in submission.

Rowena turned her head. Her beautiful face was twisted into something hazardous and cruel. Her piercing eyes locked onto the trembling maid.

"You prepared the chicken?" Rowena demanded. Her eyes burned with a wicked, dangerous fire.

Della nodded her head slowly. She kept her gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the floor rug. She prayed silently to the Moon Goddess, begging for mercy, begging to be spared from the wrath of the Luna.

Rowena leaned back in her chair. A cold, mocking smile touched her lips. "Do you know how I brought you into this house?" she asked, her tone dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I saved you from the men who wanted to ruin your purity. I took you from the dirt. And this is how you repay me? By cooking this nonsense for me?"

Rowena raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer. Della’s breath hitched. She quickly raised her head and shook it back and forth. No. That wasn't true. She had cooked it perfectly. But in her anxious state, lost in the traumatic memories of her family's murder, she had forgotten to do a final taste test of the broth.

"Come here," Rowena ordered. The command was calm, deceptively gentle.

Della had no choice. To protest was to invite death. She walked closer to the dining table, every instinct screaming at her to run. When she reached the edge of the mahogany table, Rowena pointed a manicured finger at the platter of chicken. The gesture was a clear order.

*Eat it.*

Della reached out. Her fingers trembled as she picked up a small piece of the meat. She brought it to her lips and placed it on her tongue.

The reaction was instantaneous. A blinding wave of agony assaulted her tastebuds. The meat was saturated with an obscene, burning amount of spice and choked with coarse salt. It felt like swallowing dry sand mixed with battery acid. Della gagged, her hands flying to her mouth, and she spat the searing food out into a cloth napkin. She coughed, her throat closing up.

The dish had been sabotaged. She knew she had not added those ingredients.

"Can you see?" Rowena asked. Her face remained a mask of calm superiority. She crossed one elegant leg over the other, watching Della writhe in discomfort.

Della began to fidget, wiping her burning mouth with the back of her hand, tears springing to her eyes from the raw heat.

"Finish it."

The order was quiet. Rowena did not shout. She did not yell. The sheer authority in her voice made the hairs on Della’s arms stand up.

Della shook her head desperately. The food was toxic. It burned her lips just from a brief touch. She took a step back, her chest heaving.

Rowena’s patience snapped. In a blur of motion, the Luna stood up, reached across the table, and grabbed the back of Della’s neck. With ruthless force, Rowena shoved Della’s face directly into the searing hot dish.

The wet, burning spices coated Della’s skin. The intense heat stung her cheeks and seeped into her eyes. A loud, agonizing scream ripped from Della’s throat as the fiery pain blinded her.

"Guards!" Rowena snapped.

Two burly enforcers stepped forward instantly from the shadows. They grabbed Della by her upper arms, hoisting her up and pinning her straight so she could not thrash away. Della screamed with her eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down her burning face.

Rowena picked up the serving spoon, her face devoid of any empathy. She scooped up a large handful of the searing food and stepped right up to the captive maid.

Della tried to clamp her jaw shut, shaking her head side to side in a desperate protest. Rowena’s hand lashed out. Smack. A brutal slap struck Della across the cheek, snapping her head to the side. Before Della could recover, Rowena grabbed her jaw, forcing her mouth open, and shoved the burning food inside.

Della choked. The fiery mixture coated her throat. Her screams became muffled, drowned out by the thick paste of spices burning her tongue and gums. Rowena slapped her again, hard enough to split her lip. The metallic taste of blood mixed with the unbearable heat of the food.

Della gagged, trying to spit it out, but Rowena held her jaw shut. She was forced to swallow. The agonizing fire traveled down her throat, burning her stomach from the inside out.

"Please..." Della begged, her voice a mangled, wet sob. Blood trickled down her chin. "Please..."

Her desperate pleas fell on deaf ears. Rowena scooped up another handful and forced it into Della's mouth, continuing the torture with systematic cruelty.

The rest of the staff stood paralyzed. Rose averted her eyes, tears sliding down her own cheeks. Pity twisted in her gut. Since arriving at the pack house, Della had been the gentlest maid. She kept her head down, followed every order, and never joined the vicious gossip circles. She was the absolute last person who deserved this torment. Yet, no one moved. No one breathed. Fear kept them all rooted to the floor.

"Mother... Stop!"

The furious, booming voice of the future Alpha tore through the massive room like a crack of thunder.

The doors flew open. Declan stormed forward, his face twisted in unbridled rage. The air pressure in the room dropped as his dominant Alpha aura flared to life, suffocating everyone in its path.

He did not hesitate. He launched himself at the two burly guards pinning Della. His fists moved in a blur. A sickening crunch echoed as he punched the first guard squarely in the jaw, sending the massive wolf crashing to the polished floor. He grabbed the second guard by the collar and hurled him into a nearby pillar. The enforcers groaned in pain, scrambling to get out of the enraged Alpha's way.

Declan stepped into the clearing and caught Della as her knees buckled. He pulled her battered, trembling body into a fiercely protective embrace.

The moment she hit his chest, Della’s stomach violently rejected the poisoned food. She convulsed and threw up, a messy mixture of blood, bile, and burning spices spilling all over the front of Declan’s crisp, white button-down shirt.

Gasps of visible disgust echoed from the onlookers. The maids recoiled, expecting the future Alpha to push the ruined servant away in anger.

Instead, Declan tightened his arms around her. He ignored the vomit soaking through his expensive clothes. He pulled her closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His large hand moved to the back of her head, gently stroking her hair.

"You're safe with me," he whispered.

The room fell dead silent. The tone he used was shocking. No one—not the guards, not the maids, not even his own mother—had ever heard such unprecedented tenderness come from the ruthless future Alpha.

Declan slowly raised his head. He turned his dark, furious glare upon Luna Rowena. The rage in his eyes was absolute.

"How can you treat my mate and the future Luna in this manner?!" Declan roared, delivering the ultimate, earth-shattering blow to the room.

Rowena froze. Her hand, still coated in the spiced food, suspended awkwardly in the air. The breath left her lungs. She stared blindly at the trembling, vomiting maid clinging to her son's chest, then up to the murderous glare of her powerful boy.

The words echoed off the high ceilings. *Mate. Future Luna.*

Rowena's face locked in an absolute daze. Her beautiful features slackened as her brain short-circuited, trying to process the magnitude of the mistake she had just made. She looked back and forth, her jaw opening and closing as she failed to form a coherent sentence. Finally, a single, breathless word escaped her lips.

"What?!!"